One Step Short from Insane
by Batmanluvr
Summary: A strange voice begins to speak within Batman's head. But when it starts to influence his mind and change him, the League must find a way to get the old Bruce back.
1. The Birth of Insanity

Title: One Step Short from Insane

Summary: Voices begin to ramble inside of Batman's head. But when they start to influence his mind and change him, the League must find a way to get the old Bruce back.

I believe there is a fanfic out here with an idea similar to this one, but I didn't steal anything. I promise. :)

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own anything.

XXChapter 1: The Birth of InsanityXX

"Yoohoo! Batsy Baby! Wake up, you big sleepy head!"

All he could see was black, a dark abyss of nothing. He was telling his eyes to open, but they refused to budge. They seemed heavier than before, almost impossible to lift. A horrible ache attacked his head, like it was beating it with a mallet. The room was cold, bringing a chill to his sore body. This wasn't right. None of it could be right.

He heard the excited voice call out to him once again.

"C'mon, Bats! Time to get up!"

It sounded distant, like a quiet whisper, like a dream.

"We can't spend all day! Quit dilly-dallying and get up!"

The voice didn't sound right. It just wasn't normal. It sounded a little too happy, unnerving, maybe even _insane_.

Batman's eyes shot open as the thought entered his head. Before him, he found green hair, a snow white face, and a disturbingly huge smile lined in bright red, but everything was upside down… literally. Batman's feet were bound together by a chain that hung him from the ceiling by some sort of pulley system. His hands were secured behind his back as well. Gazing up (which was really down), he could see his long, black cape billowing beneath him, and below that was a (Batman blinked to make sure none of this was a delusion) colossal vat filled to the brim with hot, bubbling green chemicals. The tip of his head had to be only a few feet away from the dangerous liquid. Batman stared back at the grinning Joker, who was standing on a bridge above several other large vats of acid.

The madman leaned over the metal railing to get as close to his rival's face as he could. His menacing smile didn't diminish a bit. In fact, it only grew wider. Beside him, several burly henchmen in clown masks stood guard around the criminal. All were armed.

"Why, hello there, Batsy!" the Joker hollered across the vast room. "I made a surprise for you, but I think you already know what it is!" He began to cackle loudly.

"What do you want, Joker?" Batman called back, even though it was obvious all the crazed clown wanted was his adversary's demise. The hero tried to buy some time, all the while struggling in his restraints, trying to find a way out of this mess.

"Oh! I'm hurt!" he yelled back, placing a gloved hand over his heart and attempting an innocent look of disappointment. "After all these years, you've forgotten! And you're the one who made me too!" The clown gave an exaggerated gasp of shock, then began laughing harder than before.

Batman tried to steady himself from the swinging chain. "What are you talking about?" he demanded sternly. Once again, he already knew what the criminal was talking about. It was just for the sake of stalling him, but he wasn't discovering any quick ways out of the trap.

"Why, it's my anniversary, of course!" the clown announced, throwing his arms in the air with excitement. His henchmen just stared emotionlessly at their boss, who continued his rambling. "And I've decided to celebrate! So here we are, back to the place where it all began! Where my insanity was born! _Hahahahahahahaaaaa!_" He once again leaned over the railing toward his captive.

"Didn't you do this last year?" the Bat questioned, as his chain continued to swing over the steaming container of acid. "You did it last year," he repeated, "with that television crew. You pushed that reporter into the vat. Don't you remember?" He cringed as he was beginning to feel lightheaded. His body continued to sway back and forth.

The Joker nodded with his huge smirk growing. "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed. "I do remember. What's his name? John? Jack? Jack Ry? Jack Riding? Jack… Oh, whatever! Something like that!" The Joker waved it off then grabbed hold of the railing once more. "It was that yellow man with the green underwear. That creepy guy."

"The Creeper," Batman corrected.

"Yeah, that guy!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Well, anyways, that whole fiasco won't happen again. And this year is different. As you can see, it's only me," he pointed a finger at his chest, "and you, Batsy!" He then pointed the finger at the upside-down Bat. "Doesn't that sound like loads of fun?!"

"Wonderful." His words dripped with sarcasm.

The Joker once more began to guffaw uncontrollably. His laughter rang throughout the immense room, growing in volume as it echoed.

"That's great, Batsy," he finally chuckled after getting rid of a few more giggles and wiping his eyes. "I'm glad you're just as excited as I am! And guess what?! I'm going to spend the rest of the day with you!"

Gritting his teeth, Batman tried to subside the nausea due to all the blood rushing to his head.

"I mean, it was so hard trying to pick what to do for this _special_ day," the Joker continued to explain. "I was trying to choose from throwing a big party at good ol' Arkham or maybe even bringing a nice big cake to the cheery folks back at the Gotham Police Department." The clown prince of crime clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace back and forth across the bridge. "But then I thought about _you_, Batsy!"

"Is that so?" Batman questioned. His hands felt around the rough chains, which were so thick and impossible to break. He gritted his teeth in frustration.

The Joker nodded furiously. "Yes sir! And when I thought about _you,_ I knew that I just _had _to celebrate this oh so grand day with my dear ol' Batsy! No one else would be just as fun as _my Batsy_! Not even Harley! Doesn't that make you feel special?"

Batman chose not to answer. The non response made the clown shrug.

"So, anyways, I sent an invitation, and of course you couldn't refuse! I mean, you couldn't just let good ol' Commissioner Gordon fall from a building, right?! Then again, it wasn't really Gordon, and Giggles here," he placed an arm over one of his henchmen's shoulders, "took care of ya'!" Another laughing fit came and went. "And now here we are! Back where it all began! Sorry I couldn't decorate a bit more. It was on such a short notice. _Hahahahahahahaaaaaa!_"

Grunting with even more frustration, Batman struggled in his restraints, trying to escape. His many attempts were futile, and he knew his next few were going to fail as well, but he kept trying to escape anyways. He tried calling to J'onn, thinking that maybe the League could help this once, but no one answered. His hand automatically reached for his belt just to find that it was missing. Joker guffawed with amusement.

"It's not there, Batsy!" he called out. "I know you too well!" The clown held out his hand, and in it was the utility belt. "I'm making sure you stay for the party!" With an overjoyed holler, he flung the device into a boiling vat, where it slowly sank.

"Well, anyways, Batsy," the criminal replied while rubbing his gloved hands together. "Let's get over to the main event, shall we? Y'see, I wanted to do something amazing for this anniversary. Something…" He paused to search his mind for the right word. "…Something _extravagant. _Yes, _extravagant._" Menacing cackles bubbled from his mouth.

Batman was mentally cursing.

"It wouldn't be extravagant if I just shot you. That's not even funny! And why would I wanna kill you anyways? That'd just end all the fun we have all the time." The jester leaned out over the rail even farther. "Y'see, Batsy, I don't wanna kill you. I never have wanted to. Deep down inside I _love_ the pain you bring me." His hand went up to his heart. "That's why I keep coming back to ya'! So I don't see why all these lunatics out there try to murder you!"

"So what are you trying to accomplish here?" Batman asked.

"Why, to drive you _insane_, Bats!" The Joker laughed harder. "That's all I've ever wanted to do. The greatest goal of my life, and now I've found the perfect time to do it! I just wanna drive you insane! Just as insane as me! _Hahahahahahaaaaa_!"

Joker's captive clenched his teeth even tighter. "You're sick, Joker," he growled harshly.

After a long fit of giggles, Joker answered, "I know. I know I am, Batsy." He flashed his evil trademark smile. "And now you're going to be just as sick me! _Hahahahahaaa!_ Pull the lever, boys!"

At the end of the bridge near the door, a huge thug pulled at a large metal switch. As soon as it clicked in place, Batman could feel himself being lowered down toward the bubbling, green chemicals.

"Good luck, Batsy! _Hahahahahahahaaaa!_"

The pulley system was slow, but Batman could already feel the heat of the acid. His face began to sweat. The end of his long cape went in, sizzling as it did. The liquid slowly began to eat away at it as it came even closer to Batman's head.

It seemed that the Joker looked at his victim with pure pride, as if he was imagining at just what he was creating. "Ooooh! You're almost there! Just a few more –"

The Joker's taunts were interrupted as a flash of blue and red burst through the ceiling, raining down dust and debris. Everyone inside coughed as they squinted through the cloud of dirt.

"Oh-ho! Well if it isn't the Big Boy in Blue!"

Batman looked in relief as he spotted Superman floating above the bridge. J'onn must have gotten his call. The Flash suddenly materialized to the bridge's right, and Wonder Woman flew down through the hole Clark had made.

"And you brought friends too!" the Joker exclaimed with glee. "Oh, this is one _fun _party. Don't you think, Batsy?" He threw a glance at Batman. "What are you doing standing there?! Get'em, boys!" he hollered.

There had to be about twenty thugs in the building, and they charged to the three heroes like ants running to invade a Saturday evening picnic. Gun shots and war cries rang throughout the room…

…And Joker kept watch of his victim, smiling with pride, waiting to see what would happen.

Batman cursed when his head was only about a foot away from the acid. He glared at Clark, who was busy with about ten henchmen.

"Superman!" he hollered.

"Don't worry! I'll get you!" the Man of Steel called back. He flew up into the air but was stopped when his cape was grabbed at. A bullet collided with his forehead and, of course, bounced of, but it didn't fail to temporarily stun the hero. Superman was reluctantly pulled back into the fight, leaving Batman literally hanging. Diana and Wally were in the same predicament.

"I don't see why you're so frightened, Batsy," the clown called out as he rested his chin on the metal railing of the bridge. "I mean, it's not so bad being crazy! Look at me! I turned out just dandy!"

The top of his head sank into the liquid, and Batman grunted as the burning heat attacked it. It was like diving into Hell itself headfirst. The chemicals reached up to his forehead, and that was when he began to yell in pain.

"Batman!" Diana's voice called out in fear, but he couldn't see her. Joker's laughter could be heard in the background.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Batman sank down until the top of the liquid reached his nose, then his mouth, then his chin, then his neck. He tried thrashing in his restraints, trying to get free, but it was useless. There was no way out.

He was feeling even more lightheaded. Holding his breath was starting to burn at his lungs, so he had to inhale, but when he did, he could only feel even more burning and pain. The acid was burning his skin and seemingly seeping through it to attack the rest of his body, even though only his head was submerged. He was screaming. Screaming so hard that it felt like someone was yanking his throat out, but he couldn't hear it. The adrenaline pumping through his head was much louder. The pain was unbearable. It felt like thousands of claws were tearing at his face, ripping it away. His eyes felt like popping out of its sockets.

And then the pain abruptly ended, and he stopped struggling. The burning and lightheadedness had left, but it didn't make Batman feel any better. In fact, he felt worse. He knew he had to escape, that it wasn't safe down here, but at the moment he didn't care. There was no point. No point at all. His sanity was going to die in this hellish pit. He couldn't see anything. There was just no longer anything. No longer any up or down. No left or right. He wasn't even sure if he still existed. There was just a pit of dark nothingness. Nothing else.

But there were voices, many of them. They were talking, whispering, and shouting to him. Some were quiet, and some were loud. Some were soothing, and some were harsh and taunting. But all of them were directed to him. Only to him.

And then there was the laughter. The booming laughter that rang above everything else. It was ominous, menacing, but above all insane. The insane, crazy laughter of a madman. The kind of laughter that always had blood behind it. It was the Joker's laugh…

…But Bruce could hear his own voice cackling insanely along with it.

XXXXX

Clark had rounded up Diana and Wally as soon as J'onn had filled him in on the predicament Bruce was in. He had burst in when Bruce's head was only a few feet away from the boiling liquid, but Joker's thugs wouldn't let him rush straight to him. Turning his head, he could see that Wonder Woman and the Flash were having the same problem. Turning his head the other way, he could see that the acid had reached Batman's shoulders and that he had stopped struggling.

A few more bullets bounced off the back of his head.

"Enough!" he yelled, throwing a few quick punches and knocking about four or five crooks unconscious. The Man of Steel grabbed hold of the few thugs that were left and hurled them off the bridge away from the huge vats of acid toward Wally's direction. "Flash, take care of these guys for me!"

"I got'cha, Supes!" The young hero disappeared in a blur to his new task.

Superman finally lifted off into the air and toward's Batman's hanging figure. By now, the acid had reached his chest. Joker's voice called off in the distance.

"Hey! Leave him alone! Why don't you crash someone else's party?!"

Pulling at the heavy chain, Clark managed to hoist his teammate out of the chemicals, finding that he had lost consciousness. But he was still breathing. Behind Clark, more shouts echoed, including Joker's.

"Hey! Let go of me you little-"

Superman smiled as he heard Diana's voice as well.

"You're not going anywhere but Arkham, Joker."

XXXXX

"Bruce."

Opening his eyes once again proved to be quite a task, but he struggled to pry them open.

"Bruce."

He felt dizzy, and his head seemed to spin. Bile was forcing its way up his sore throat.

"Batman? Are you okay?"

Bruce finally managed to pry one eye open, and then the other. It took a while for the room to come into focus, but it did in time. He was lying in a bed. The ceiling and walls were all metal, and the white lights above seemed to shine too brightly. The medical bay of the watchtower, of course. He always seemed to end up in this room somehow.

"Are you okay?" the monotone voice repeated. Bruce turned to find J'onn standing beside his bed. Clark was at his side.

"Y-yeah," he finally stammered after blinking a few times. He managed to get himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his unmasked head. "I'm just still a bit lightheaded."

The green-skinned martian nodded and put on a slight smirk. "That's understandable." Looking down at a clipboard he was holding, J'onn asked, "Do you remember anything?"

Staring down at his white bed sheets, Bruce nodded silently. "Yes, a little," he finally replied. "I remember… The Joker, and the vats of acid. Then Clark crashed through the ceiling with Wally and Diana…" He paused, unsure of what came next. "I don't remember anything after that…" His voice trailed off.

J'onn nodded and turned to Clark. "That's right when he goes into the acid, correct?" Superman nodded.

Bruce continued to study the two with questioning eyes. "Is there anything wrong with me? What happened?"

Clark turned to answer him. "You were partially submerged in the chemicals. Thankfully, you weren't submerged in enough or long enough to do any damage." Flashing a smile, he added, "You're not insane or anything, if that's what the Joker was saying."

Bruce answered in a nod and stared at the floor in thought.

"You should get some rest," said J'onn. "You've been out cold for a day." The martian turned to the door, and with a nod, Clark followed.

"We'll inform everyone that you're alright. They've been worried, y'know?" Clark called over his shoulder.

"Oh," was all that Bruce could say.

The two heroes finally flipped the lights out and walked through the door, which swished shut, leaving Bruce alone in his room.

_Oh, but you're never alone, Brucie._

XXXXX

To be continued…

**A/N:**__I just noticed that pretty much all my JL stories have a scene in the medical bay of the Watchtower. Isn't that weird? :)


	2. Almost

Here's chapter 2 :)

XXChapter 2: AlmostXX

"Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?"

_Mind your own business, idiot._

Bruce moved his head in a slow nod and stared back out the window of the Javelin 7 at the starry black sky. Diana turned back to the controls in front of her, and Clark continued to carefully steer the ship.

It had been a full week since the incident with Joker had occurred. Bruce had only remained in bed for another day before he had gone straight back to Gotham to resume his duties. Of course, the others had insisted that he stay in bed, but what was the point? The acid had had no effect on him.

That was what he liked to tell himself.

_Don't worry. There's nothin' wrong, Brucie. Nothin' wrong at all…_

At the moment, Clark, Diana, and he were off to settle something that was rising up in Tokyo. The only reason Bruce was tagging along was because Clark had suggested a little break from –as the Man of Steel had put it- Gotham's "dankness."

_What do you think he's trying to say? Hmm, Brucie? That's you're hometown. If I were you I'd take that as an insult._ The voice stopped to chuckle lightly. _Oh wait, that's right. I am you._

Bruce ignored it, just as he had for the past week. It couldn't be anything more than a little stress nagging at his mind. He had had worse done to him, hallucinations and other things of the sort. With any luck, the annoying, little voice would probably just disappear in another day or two.

"Bruce, Diana's right. Are you sure you're okay?" Clark had swiveled his chair around to face him. An expression of worry was etched on his face.

His head was already aching, and the boy scout was only making it worse. Bruce rested his chin on his hand.

_You already said you were fine. Why can't he get it through his thick skull?_

Half of him was tempted to repeat the thought aloud.

"I said I was fine," he muttered bluntly, staring straight ahead at the windshield. They were getting ready to descend into earth's atmosphere.

"But it looks like you've hardly gotten any rest," Diana mentioned without turning from the Javelin's controls. "Have you?"

Truth be told, she was totally right. It had been quite a task trying to get even a few hours of sleep throughout the week.

_Oh, I'm sorry. Was that because of me?_

Bruce's hand had been clenched into a fist under his chin. "Shut up," he quietly murmured.

"What was that?" Clark had raised an eyebrow.

Bruce could only answer with a shake of his head. In his mind, he could here the voice chuckling slightly.

After a quick sigh, Clark answered, "Maybe you shouldn't have come. You should get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"Then get some rest when we get back," Diana suggested.

_These guys really don't get it do they? Are all you're friends this dimwitted?_

"I have patrol back in Gotham," came the blunt reply.

"No." The Amazon princess had turned in her seat to face Batman. "You need some rest. Promise us you'll get some as soon as we get back." Clark nodded in agreement.

_Pushy, aren't they?_

Gritting his teeth slightly in frustration, Bruce answered, "Yeah, sure."

With that, Diana and Clark turned back to flying the ship. There were only a few minutes before landing.

_Who do they think they are, Brucie?_

Bruce once more dismissed the voice as nothing, like all the other times, but it didn't help a bit.

_Don't worry, Brucie. We're going to get to know each other a whole lot…_

XXXXX

Clark couldn't help but notice how strange Bruce had been acting.

First of all, Bruce hadn't been this moody since… the thing was, Clark honestly couldn't remember since when. Bruce had never sulked _this_ much. And of course he had caught what Bruce had muttered to Diana back in the Javelin. Why would he tell her to shut up? It was beyond Clark.

Clark also wasn't kidding when he had agreed with Diana. Bruce seemed like he had been through Hell and back. The man looked quite plainly worn out. He'd never seen him this weary.

Maybe he shouldn't have brought him along.

But it was too late anyways. They were already here in Tokyo, searching the alleyways, streets, and rooftops in the middle of the night. Gorilla Grodd had supposedly been spotted around these parts, but their search had brought up nothing so far.

"We should split up," Clark finally announced to the other two, who were walking ahead of him on the rooftop. Then he could have sworn he heard Bruce give off an almost silent scoff of annoyance. "Diana, you take the west side of town. Batman, you take the east."

"Whatever." Bruce turned to leave, and Diana began to float to the sky, but not before giving Clark a look of concern. Her eyes motioned to their black clad comrade. Clark let out a sigh.

"Okay, fine," he muttered under his breath as Diana began to fly away. He quickly caught up with Bruce, who was already making his way to the next rooftop.

"Batman, we need to talk," he called out as he landed beside the Bat. Bruce just stared at him with the usual unnerving Batglare.

"What do you want?" he growled through what seemed to be clenched teeth.

Clark let out another sigh, pondering on how he was going to get through this. Bruce wasn't exactly the easiest person to have a pleasant conversation with.

"You lied back on the ship," Clark finally managed to stammer out, placing his hands on his hips. "Seriously, what's wrong? You don't exactly look all that great."

"It's none of your business," Bruce muttered, continuing to walk forward faster than before, but Clark had grabbed at his shoulder.

"If you want to go home, we understand," Clark explained, trying to put on the best look of concern he could. "Diana and I can handle things here. You need some rest."

The Batglare aimed directly at Clark's face seemed to intensify. "And this is coming from the guy who suggested me to come in the first place for my own good," Bruce sneered.

Clark's hands immediately flew up in defense. "Sorry, Bruce. I didn't know you were this worn out."

Bruce had turned the other way, looking at the starry horizon, glaring at nothing.

"Shut up."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

His comrade began to shake his head as he clenched his teeth even tighter.

"I wasn't talking to you."

The explanation did nothing but puzzle Clark even more. "Then who are you-"

Suddenly, there was a loud explosion. A building only a few blocks away from the one the heroes were standing on now blew up in flames. Clark's hand went up to his ear to touch his communicator.

"Diana, did you-"

"Yes, Clark. I'm coming over there right now," came the crackling response of the Amazon princess through the earpiece.

Clark turned back to Bruce, but the Bat had already disappeared. The Man of Steel let out about the third sigh that day.

He would have to have another talk with Bruce later.

XXXXX

_Is that guy always like that?_

Like what?

_I don't know. Boy scout…_

Batman surged forward with the adrenaline running through his body. With hardly any concentration at all, he swiftly leaped from each rooftop towards the now burning building right ahead. The chilly midnight air whipped at his exposed face.

Suddenly, through his peripheral vision, Bruce caught a flash of red to his right.

The voice inside of his head cursed. _I thought we left him behind._

But it wasn't Clark.

"Batman," Diana called as she flew beside him, "you really need to stay back in the ship."

Of course, he ignored her. There was no point arguing about something stupid. Batman leapt down into an alleyway below. It was only about a block from the smoldering building. Diana continued to fly above, not bothering to chase after him.

_At least she has a little sense to leave it at that._

Someone called out something from behind him, and Batman quickly turned around. A man in what seemed to be some Armani suit and dark sunglasses –which didn't make sense, it was past midnight- was pointing a gun with a silencer at him, yelling some Japanese jargon angrily.

_What does this sorry whelp want? _The voice cursed.

That was when the stranger started to shoot.

It wasn't a problem, of course. With a few swift moves, Bruce had him down and unconscious in a matter of seconds, but more men seemed to come out of nowhere, each with guns or some other sort of weapon. Then they immediately charged at him. With the size of the groups they came in, Batman was tempted to call either Clark or Diana over.

_You don't need them, Brucie. You got me…_

With hardly any effort, Batman overtook a few men.

_There's quite a few…_

A few more kicks and punches. A few more batarangs. A few more unconscious enemies.

_You're never going to get out of this at this pace. Let me take over…_

The strangers were going down quick, but with every defeated adversary, about two more showed up in his place.

_Let me take over…_

Bruce had no idea how many men were attacking him now. It had to be at least ten.

_I'm taking over whether you like it or not, Brucie. I'm not just going to stand here in your head doing nothing…_

Suddenly, Batman found himself hitting harder, much harder than before. A few more men fell back, unconscious and bloody. For some reason, he seemed to have no problem with it. Soon, there were only five left, then three, then one.

_Here, I'll let you have this one…_

Batman found himself lifting the now helpless and injured man by his collar, shoving him against the brick wall of the alleyway. The thug was pleading in a ramble of Japanese words. His voice stopped to grunt as Batman punched him square in the jaw.

After coughing up blood, the pleading began once again, only to be interrupted by another hit to the face.

He could just end it now. He could just knock the man unconscious with one hit and continue his search for Grodd with Clark and Diana, but something was telling him not to.

It was the voice.

_Hit him one more time… At least one more time… He deserves, Brucie. You know that…_

I could ask him where Grodd is.

_The man can't speak English, idiot…_

Bruce punched him once more, earning another yelp of pain and more begs of mercy. With a shove, Batman knocked him to the ground and knelt above him. Without thinking, he delivered more harsh blows.

The voice was laughing.

_Hit him again…_

He did, and it felt good.

_Again…_

He did, and it felt even better. The stranger's face was thoroughly bloody. Bruce could actually feel himself smirking.

The voice continued to cackle in amusement.

_Again…_

XXXXX

Finding Grodd wasn't a problem. Blowing up a building in the middle of Tokyo wasn't exactly the best way to stay hidden. The battle had been quick, and now Diana was busy handing over a few thugs in suits and sunglasses to the cops. They had just taken Grodd a few minutes.

She looked down the sidewalk to find Superman questioning one of the few of Grodd's henchmen who could speak English.

"What have you got?" Diana asked as she neared the two men.

"They didn't expect us to come. The building was a weaponry factory. After taking the goods, they just blew up the place to make it look like an accident."

"That was amateurish."

Clark nodded. "I know." He placed his hands on his hips in his usual stance and glared over at the criminal before him. "Are there more of you?"

The man nodded reluctantly after a few prods from a cop.

"Where?"

The thug shrugged. "I do not know," he said with broken English. "There were some of us standing guard around the building."

That was when Diana remembered. "Where's Batman?" she asked with concern, turning to face Clark.

The Man of Steel reached up to poke the communicator in his ear.

"Batman?"

The way his face twisted in worry made it obvious that there was no answer. At that, Diana lifted up into the air and shot toward the direction she last saw her teammate. She quickly sped over the many lighted buildings and searched frantically for a man dressed as a bat. This was one of the times she wished she had x-ray vision like Clark

Suddenly, Superman was floating right beside her. "There!" He pointed at an alleyway, and Diana didn't hesitate to dive down.

Many unconscious men littered the ground, dressed in the same suits and sunglasses the thugs they had found with Grodd had been wearing. The screams of one man was ringing throughout the alley.

"Batman!" Clark immediately flew past Diana to the dark figure kneeling over something. Diana quickly joined him.

Batman was kneeling over an already bloody thug, punching him repeatedly.

Clark grabbed at Bruce's arm. "Stop it! You'll kill him!"

Bruce didn't listen. He just struggled to get free.

"Batman!" Diana grabbed hold of Bruce's other arm, and he grunted as he pulled against the two.

"What are you doing?"

They finally managed to pull him off the injured man, who was screaming in pain.

"Crazy!" he was yelling as he struggled to push himself up. "Crazy! He crazy!"

Diana turned to stare at Bruce's face in confusion. How could he do such a thing? Bruce had stopped struggling, and he gazed at the injured thug in horror.

"I didn't do it," he muttered.

Clark had also turned to him in confusion. "What do you mean you didn't do it?" He hadn't loosened his grip on Bruce.

Batman shook his head hesitantly. "He did it," he murmured under his breath, but still loud enough to hear. "Not me. He did it."

Diana still stared in confusion and worry, unsure of what to think. "What do you mean? He did it?" She motioned to the thug still on the ground.

Once again, Bruce shook his head. "No. No…" His voice trailed off. Then he pried himself from their grasp, turning and placing a hand on his head.

Clark followed him. "Batman, what are you-"

"Leave me alone," came the quick response. Batman didn't bother to turn to face them. Instead he walked away. "I'll explain everything later. Just take care of him." He motioned to the Japanese criminal.

"But Batman."

"I said leave me alone." With that, Batman disappeared as he walked off.

After a moment of silence, Diana turned to Superman. "What was that?" Confusion still racked at her brain.

It didn't ease her when Clark shook his head. "I don't know… He said he'd explain everything later."

Diana wasn't sure 'later' was soon enough.

XXXXX

What had he just done?

_You did what was right, Brucie. The man was probably gonna beat someone else to a bloody pulp later anways…_

I almost killed the man.

_That's the point. You __**almost**__ killed him, but you didn't really. Get over yourself…_

Bruce sunk into his seat on the Javelin and placed a hand on his head. Thousands of confused thoughts ran through his mind, but only one stood out.

_Don't let this little thing get you all down and stuff, Brucie…_

_  
_He removed the hand from his head to stare at the metal ceiling.

_I mean, after all, this is only the beginning of a glorious friendship…_

With who?

_You silly goose… Who do you think?_

With a sigh, Bruce looked down. He stared right ahead at his reflection in the windshield. What he saw didn't make sense.

He saw himself, sitting in his chair. Sweat was running down his cheeks, and he was breathing heavily. But that wasn't it. Beside him, he saw another figure. It was a man with black hair and blue eyes. An almost insane smirk adorned his face, and it grew as he laughed.

It was himself. Bruce Wayne.

The other Bruce leaned over to whisper in Batman's ear.

_I told you, we're going to get to know each other a whole lot…_

The voice began to guffaw loudly, and Batman bolted up in his seat to turn around…

…but there was no one there. There never had been anyone there.

The voice continued to cackle insanely.


	3. Unending Laughter

XXChapter 3: Unending LaughterXX

He was back in the alleyway again, the alleyway he visited every night in his nightmares, which was strange because he didn't remember ever falling asleep. The chilly midnight air made goose bumps form on his arms.

It was the usual setting, the same dream Bruce had every time he dared to close his eyes. The dark, dank Crime Alley, the police car sirens ringing in the background, the movie theater only a few blocks away. A rat scurried past his feet.

Then he saw them. A man and a woman, Thomas and Martha Wayne. Between the cheery couple was the eight-year-old boy, Bruce Wayne, who was currently rambling something excitedly about Zorro. The happy family walked into the alley, right past Bruce, not seeing him at all. They strolled farther in, and Bruce could feel himself cringing as he anticipated the horror he would once again witness, the nightmare that haunted him every day.

That was when the man came out, and the family of three halted in their tracks. The thug didn't hesitate to whip out a pistol and point it without any fear.

"We'll start with the pearls around the lady's neck," he rasped, motioning with his hand for them to hurry.

Bruce looked away, not daring to watch again. He saw it all the time, but it didn't fail to get his heart beating faster. Behind him, he could hear Thomas pleading with the mugger. Closing his eyes, he waited as the gun shots rang out. Two bangs, followed by two thuds. Then there were the loud, sorrowful wails of the young boy. Bruce lifted his head to see the dark puddle of blood and the pearls of his mother's broken necklace rolling aimlessly around.

There was a chuckle, and Bruce turned with widened eyes to find another Bruce, a completely identical clone of himself, standing only a few feet away from him. A sickening smirk was plastered to his face as he watched the boy crying before him. It was as if he found it amusing, and Bruce found himself gritting his teeth.

The other Bruce turned to him, his grin only growing larger. His eyes were wide and crazed, and his body shook with every slow snicker he let out. Bruce watched in confusion as the other quietly lifted a finger to his mouth, motioning him to stay quiet. The insane smile grew even wider.

"Wha-"

Suddenly, the other Bruce lunged forward, past Bruce, past the puddles of blood where the child Bruce seemingly disappeared. His footsteps rang throughout the dark, cramped alleyway as he quickly made his way to the mugger, who only now noticed him as he slowly looked up. The criminal brought his weapon back out, and Bruce could only watch in awe as he gawked.

"What do you think you're-"

The other Bruce's body collided with the criminal, and the two crashed to the ground with a _thud._ The man with the gun was screaming, but his wails were put to an end as the other Bruce beat his face. Bringing out the gun proved to be useless as it was flung across the alley. The only sounds that could be heard were the pleads of mercy and the _thump_s of every hit to the face.

And through it all, Bruce stood glued to his spot a good distance away from the bout. His legs felt stiff and rigid as he looked with wide and confused eyes. What was going on? This had never happened in any of his other dreams? Why was it different now? And who was this other Bruce?

Blood was exploding from the mugger's mouth now, pooling on the cold ground, combining with Bruce's parent's blood. The fact that the thug's face was already thoroughly bruised and beaten didn't make the other Bruce hesitate in his brutal thrashing. In fact, he began beating harder, until it was so harsh that the other man could scream no longer. And if Bruce watched closer, he could have sworn that the other him was smiling only more.

Just as the mugger's face was beginning to look distorted, the other Bruce lifted him by his collar from the ground and smashed him against the wall. Almost silent whimpers managed to escape the man's mouth, but it didn't weaken the other Bruce's wide, mischievous smirk. The smiling Bruce slowly reached into his pocket and fished out a Batarang, holding it to the man's face. The thug began to struggle, and his pleading became stronger.

"No… no… please… please… no…"

The other Bruce only answered in crazed, low, snickers as he brought the sharp tip of his weapon closer to the man's neck.

Bruce, on the other side of the alleyway, still stood in his place, watching in silent terror, still unsure of how to react.

That was when the other Bruce stared straight at him. His crazed glare shot right through the alleyway, directly to Bruce's face. Still shocked at what was happening, Bruce could only return a confused expression, making the other man's grin widen more.

_You know what I'm gonna do, Brucie. What are you going to do about it? Hmm…_

The other Bruce's body was shaking violently with excitement now, and his quiet chuckles slowly grew into louder, more drawn out cackles. They were the cackles of a madman. The shaking man in his hands was moaning.

Bruce jumped as the hand holding the Batarang suddenly flew up, slicing into the thug's neck. Blood exploded like a fountain from the wound, and a final yelp of pain emanated from the criminal's parched lips. His body fell to the ground with a thud.

And above him, the other Bruce continued to laugh. His guffaws were ringing louder now, and he looked over the murdered man like a boy eyeing a trophy with pride. It was the perfect picture of an insane madman, and Bruce, only a few feet away, continued to watch. He felt himself shiver at the terror before him. How did something like this happen?

Suddenly he wasn't just a few feet away. He wasn't staring at the two men from a good distance. Instead, all he could see was the bloodied and dead mugger. The body was below him. The eyes were open and bloodshot, and his mouth was laying agape. There was no trace of the other Bruce, but his cackles were still sounding loudly.

Looking down, Bruce studied the body, confused. He lifted his hands to find them holding the bloody Batarang. Feeling his face, his hands brought back more blood, and his clothes were ruined as well. What had happened? Where was the other Bruce?

Bruce could feel his heart beating faster, like it was about to fight its way out of his chest. His breathing became harder, and he felt himself fingering the weapon in his hand worriedly. How did this happen? He had just witnessed a murder, not committed it. Had he?

_Maybe you should ask yourself again, Brucie…_

The laughter was louder now.

No, he hadn't killed the man. He couldn't have. He had watched another man murder him!

The other man was himself… The other Bruce…

_Hahahahahahhahahaha…_

Bruce opened his eyes to find himself lying in the bed of his Watchtower dorm. He was breathing heavily, and clothes and the sheets were stained with sweat. The room was dark and cold, but he was relieved to find that he was alright.

But the laughter hadn't ceased. Bruce's eyes shot around the room worriedly, trying to make sense of things. His hands were holding onto the mattress tightly, and his body was shaking violently. The crazed guffaws grew louder and louder…

Bruce stopped when he realized the cackles were coming from his own mouth.

XXXXX

Batman had acted strangely the whole trip back to the Watchtower. He had sat silently in his seat the whole ride, and it didn't fail to worry Diana.

When she and Clark had returned to find him in the Javelin, they had expected a full answer to the whole fiasco that had just occurred. Instead, they came back to the usual monotone explanation that only Batman could deliver.

"It was nothing," he had said. "Just nothing…"

Clark had shrugged, evidently satisfied with the answer. A few minutes later, he had explained to Diana that the thug had probably ticked Batman off or something of the sorts. She wasn't convinced.

She had meant to question Bruce after they had arrived at the tower, but he had immediately stated that he wasn't feeling well and headed straight for his dorm, which was strange. He hardly ever used his room up here. Usually, he had himself beamed straight down to the manor. Maybe he really was that worn out as Clark had said.

Diana dismissed it as nothing and settled on planning to talk to him some other time. It wouldn't help talking to a pissed off Batman.

XXXXX

Bruce took a shower, hoping it would calm him down. It didn't accomplish anything. When he came back into the bedroom, he was still breathing heavily and shaking uncontrollably.

_Excited, aren't you? Hmm, Brucie?_

He plodded in front of the mirror beside his bed and studied himself. His body was shaking and sweating, and he was gritting his teeth together. He sat down hard on the bed, still looking at himself.

Then he saw the other one. The other Bruce. He was sitting beside him on the bed. Looking beside himself at the rumpled sheets, Bruce saw nothing, but in the mirror, it showed two identical clones.

The other Bruce had rested his chin on his hand studied his other self through the mirror with a sickening smirk.

_Why, hello there, Brucie…_

Bruce found himself leaning forward.

Who are you?

_Hmm? I'm sorry. What was that again? _The delusion's smile grew.

Bruce spoke aloud this time. "Who are you?" he asked with an unsteady voice.

His other self chuckled.

_I thought we settled this last time, darling. I'm you…_

Through gritting teeth, he asked, "Why couldn't J'onn track you in my mind?"

Once again, another snigger. The other Bruce stood from his seat on the bed and walked closer to the mirror, which was toward Bruce.

_Okay, I kinda' lied when I said I was you,_ he sneered playfully. _I'm another you… _He spread out his hands_. A better you. Deep down in here…_ He then tapped the side of his head. _Way way deep. You're mind is a deep, dark place, Brucie. Practically an endless black abyss, and the martian is too cowardice to dive in and see what he finds…_

"You need to leave."

That made a disappointed expression find its way on the other Bruce's face, but it didn't wipe away his seemingly unending grin.

_Leave? Why would I leave? If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead, Brucie…_

There was a short moment of awkward silence.

"Where did you come from?"

_Come from? What do you mean 'Where did you come from"? I've always been here, Brucie. You just never noticed. I guess I wanted to stand out just now… I wanted to make you notice me, Brucie…_

Bruce found a shiver fighting its way his spine. Meanwhile, the delusion's mischievous smirk widened as he began to chuckle.

_Doesn't that make you feel special, Brucie?_

Staring down at the carpeted floor, Bruce continued to shiver. He hands gripped at his knees to try to steady himself. Meanwhile, the laughter continued.

_We're going to get to know each other a whole lot, Brucie. Don't worry…_


	4. Dumpsters and Duct Tape

Disclaimer: I don't own whatever

**A/N:** Ugh. I hadn't meant to take a break… I just sorta' did due to school and computer problems. For those of you who are actually reading this, here is chapter 4. Sorry for the long wait. And thank you for those of you who did review.

Also, read _Dark Laughter_ by _Dark Shadow Bat,_ who helped me a lot. Thank you!

Reviews make me a very happy person :)

XX Dumpsters and Duct Tape XX

A week had passed since his encounter with "the other Bruce". Every night in that long, dreary week had produced the same bone-chilling nightmare, and every morning had Bruce bolting up in bed, soaked in sweat and shaking violently, laughing the same uncontrollable, crazed laugh through gritted teeth. He no longer questioned the voice, his other self. He had watched the delusion of the murder in silence every night, maybe even letting a smirk cross his lips.

Of course, Alfred had heard the guffaws through the night, and naturally, the trusted butler had gone to check on his master. By then, Bruce had gained his composure back and had waved the old man off, explaining how he was all right, how it was nothing at all. It was a lie, and he knew Alfred knew it was. Nonetheless, Alfred had left without a word after a few more prods. Bruce had left his door locked since that night.

Tim had also overheard the strange laughter ringing through the manor, but that was just expected. The teen had asked if there was a problem, and after a quick answer of "no", the boy had left it at that, choosing to go on with life as if nothing was out of place.

_If only the rest of the world minded their own business…_

Sometimes Clark, Diana, or J'onn would call over the comm. link, asking him if he was doing fine, if he was feeling better than last time. He would lie to them as well. It was the only thing he could do.

_It's annoying…_

Patrols had gone on pretty normally. The voice would only speak now and then to leave a quick or nasty remark, though it seemed to get rather restless at times, especially while patrolling through Gotham. Bruce could hear it laugh as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop. It got his adrenaline running.

_Do I make you excited Bruciiieee? Hmmm…_

Bruce had no idea what it was talking about. So he had left it at that, trying to clear his troubled thoughts.

Naturally, he had considered revisiting J'onn about the problem, but if the Martian hadn't traced anything a week ago, why would he now?

Anyways, he was fine. Bruce couldn't remember much about his encounter with the Joker, but whatever chemicals had fought its way into his head would be wearing off by now or soon. And what was it doing? Speaking in his mind? Giving him insane nightmares? He had had voices talk in his head before. He had had the worst of worst hallucinations. Nightmares had haunted him for most of his life, and he had woken up thrashing, screaming, and even sobbing almost every morning…

…But laughing?

He had shaken off the thought and told himself he was fine. There was nothing wrong.

It would have been a lie to say that a little voice in the back of his head was screaming disagreements or doubts, for at the moment, all it could do was laugh.

XXXXX

"Why are we here?"

Honestly, he had no idea. At the moment, though he would never admit it aloud, he was stumped, without a clue as to what to do. In fact he didn't even have clue if there was even anything wrong at all. Nonetheless, a somewhat confident Superman strode through the eerie halls of Arkham Asylum with a questioning Wonder Woman slowly following him.

"I," he paused, although he was unsure why, "I just want to get some things figured out. I want some answers. You were right when you said there was something wrong with…" Clark ended the sentence as he cast a weary eye to the cells holding Gotham's criminally insane. Few words could describe the dangerous aura that seemed to loom around the asylum. It was as if they had stepped into a completely different world when they had simply stepped through the door.

Most of the crazed inmates had ambled their way to the front of their cells to "greet" the heroic duo. Clark didn't dare look any in the eye, choosing instead to stare straight down the corridor at the far wall, but through his peripheral vision he caught the glimpses of a few criminals screaming taunts or pressing their face to the thick glass, their stale breath forming mist creating a haze of mist.

Though most of the faces were new to him, he recognized a few figures from Batman's stories of patrol. Poison Ivy was sitting quietly in her cell, fiddling with the leaves of a small potted plant. Two-Face was leaning against the wall, casting a menacing glare as they passed. A red-headed man who Clark recognized to be none other than the Scarecrow was running bony fingers through his bushy mess of hair. But Clark had dragged Diana here to visit only one mad man.

"Do you think we can actually get information from that clown?" Diana questioned once again, not sounding at all hopeful.

Clark shrugged, uttering a quick "I don't know" under his breath. It didn't hurt to try, and Bruce's behavior over the week had been questionable. He wanted to tell himself that it was just another one of his friend's strange mood phases, but another part of him told him otherwise.

They finally came to a halt in front of a certain cell. Beyond the thick glass sat a man in the corner. A dirty straightjacket held his arms firmly around his chest, and a wicked-looking smile adorned his pallid, white face.

"My, my… Now who do we have here?" the Joker rasped through his sick grin after letting out a hearty guffaw. "You have guts to just stroll in the city like that. Batsy won't be pleased to find that _outsiders_ have entered _our_ city."

"_Your_ city?"

The Joker cackled ominously. "_Our _city. It's me and Batsy's personal playground."

Clark ground his teeth together, trying to calm the anger he felt by just looking at the mad man. How could one be so lost in there own demented world? He found it sickening.

"We have some business we need to take care of, Joker."

The clown laughed. "So you _have_ entered without Batsy's permission, now did you? _Tsk, tsk, tsk."_ He shook his head, shuffling restlessly in his seat on the cold floor. "I thought you'd know better. Batsy doesn't like to share us, y'know?" The twisted smile continued to grow.

Beside him, Clark could see Diana's eyes glare in hatred. Her fists were clenched.

"What was in that acid?" she spat, getting straight to the point. It was obvious she wanted to finish this quickly, and Clark shared her wish.

"The acid?" Yet another chuckle escaped the man's lips. "How do you expect me to know? I could find out if I wanted to, but why would I do that?" Joker grinned from ear to ear, his body shaking from laughter. "It wouldn't be a surprise then, would it? Tell me, does Batsy like my gift?"

Clark could feel the anger swell inside of him, and he knew that what was supposed to be a simple interrogation would be much harder than it seemed.

XXXXX

He was back in the alleyway. The wind beat at his clothes, and the chilly air made the hair on his neck stand straight. His heart beat noisily, and he couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement. Either way, it brought a smile to Bruce's face.

It was strange how one could know he was in a dream, yet it still felt like the real thing in one's mind. One knows that since it is merely just a dream, a simple delusion, that nothing really did matter because nothing was actually there. The real question though, is why in a dream does one's heart begins to beat faster, the adrenaline seems to run more violently, and fear, anger, sorrow, and all the other emotions burst out in a rush, even though one knows that it doesn't matter in the world of delusion.

The world of dreams was the only place where one may truly be himself, and yet he had no control over it. No control at all, and yet, one knows that the actions are his own.

That was how he felt as he stood there, motionless, helpless. It was the same every time, and it would always be the same…

…and yet, lately it had been overwhelmingly different. Bruce didn't know whether to treat it as good or bad. Then again, man's insane mind couldn't truly distinguish the good from the bad, the wrong from the right, the darkness from the light, correct? The thought made his grin widen.

And then there was the family, the happy group of three walking hand-in-hand, waltzing straight into the trap of death. The trio strolled into the alleyway with smiles, right past Bruce who was staring silently.

He didn't turn away when the large man with the gun suddenly appeared. He didn't cringe when the two gunshots resonated loudly through the cold air with a _bang!_ He didn't move when the young boy fell to his knees with a sob. Bruce just stood, watched, smiled; and yet cold tears ran down his cheeks.

There were so many things running through his head. So many. He had no idea what to do, so he just stood there, doing nothing. It was if he was incapable to move or wipe away the tears and the smile.

But there was only one thing he was positive of: hatred. The pure hatred seemed to flow through his head as if it had belonged there the whole time. It felt _right_, the only thing that was right in the insane place Bruce called his mind.

And then there was the other man, the other Bruce as he called himself. His clone stood beside him, shaking from the quiet laughter seeping through his teeth. Bruce stared at the other, knowing just what was to happen.

Without another second to lose, the other Bruce lunged forward, grabbed the mugger by the collar, and slammed him to the brick wall. The man thrashed, screamed, and did all he could to escape the clone's hold, but his attempts were once again futile, just as they were they other last few times.

And just like the other last few times, Bruce stared. He let his smile widen at every punch, at every yelp of pain. The other Bruce cackled as he continued to torture the crook. Dark, crimson blood splattered here and there.

And just like that, there was only one Bruce. Only one Bruce holding up the mugger. Only one Bruce laughing menacingly. Only one Bruce waving a razor sharp batarang at the man's white neck.

Bruce took nothing of it. In fact, it only felt natural. Without another thought, he held the weapon to the man's neck, letting the flat of the blade slightly touch the victim's skin. The mugger let out a scream of terror, struggling to loose the gloved hand grasping at his neck.

For a split second, Bruce imagined the man wearing a necklace of liquid red.

_Brucie dear, wake up…_

Batman jerked slightly. The world went into a haze and then suddenly reappeared crystal clear. He was still in an alleyway, though not the same one. He was still holding a man by the collar against a wall, though not the same crook. He was still holding a batarang to a bare neck.

The man thrashed against his hold, howling curses, and pleading for mercy. He was young, probably only a few years over twenty. Blood ran down his face, which was twisted in horror. The dark hair caked with blood atop his head stood in different directions. His eyes were blood-shot and watery. His nose was probably broken…

Had he done this? Why didn't he remember?

_Don't give yourself too much credit. It was my doing…_

The voice let out a crazed guffaw, and Batman could only cringe. He continued to stare at the wounded man still struggling.

_A work of art. A masterpiece. Am I correct?_

"Please!" the victim was pleading in hoarse yells. "Please! Please don't kill me! I'll do anythin'! I'll give ya' anythin'! I have money! I know people!" The man squeezed at the Dark Knight's hand which was holding his collar. "I'll give ya' anythin' ya' want! Jus' please let me live!"

The Caped Crusader threw the batarang to the ground, and the metal rang as it hit the concrete. Without another word, Batman grabbed the crook by the hair and slammed his face into the cold brick wall, earning a rather loud whimper of pain.

_Weak little twit…_

"Who are you?!" he demanded in a growl, still holding the man to the wall so that half of his face was pressed against the rough stone.

When all he received as an answer was a few frightened stares and sobs of fear, the vigilante pulled the man's head back once again and pounded it against the wall. This time, a shrill scream of pain rang from the stranger's bleeding mouth, and he immediately began to speak.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he pleaded, shaking as if he was being confronted by a ghost. "I'm sorry! 'Da name's Johnny!" Johnny eyed his captor with the eye not being crushed against the wall. "Johnny Madison!" With a few more whimpers, he flinched under Batman's hold, struggling to ease the pain of being held by the hair.

Batman paused, letting his captive calm a bit. The blood continued to run down the injured man's face, seeping down to soak his shirt into a dark scarlet. Johnny's guttural breaths soon dwindled down to softer hoarse and ragged ones.

In the back of Batman's head, he could hear the voice chuckling at the stranger. It was as if he found the pain and misery of the man amusing.

"What happened here?" Batman demanded as soon as Johnny quieted down a quit thrashing.

The stranger attempted a confused look. "Look Mr. Batman," he stammered, "I dunno! Jus' passin' by! I didn't do nothin'!"

Without a hesitation, the man was punched in the face.

_How blunt, Brucie…_

The man spat on the ground, eyes wide with terror. His body was shaking violently.

"'Kay! 'Kay! I stole a wallet from a lady down 'da street there! Nothin' real bad. Didn't hurt the lady or nothin'!"

"I don't have time for this." Batman promptly yanked the man off the wall to handcuff his trembling hands. All Johnny could do was plead, struggle, and sob.

"Please don't lock me up!" he wailed. "I jus' got out, Mr. Batman! Ya' can't put me back in there!"

_The kid must be new, _said the voice in the back of his head. Batman ignored it.

"H—hey," the crook pleaded with his quaking voice. "I didn't mean ta' do it! Jus' need a few bucks, ya' know, ta provide for 'da family 'n' stuff!" His wide eyes stared through the cowl's white lenses.

"Is that so." He didn't really mean it as a question.

Johnny nodded vigorously. "Look Mr. Batman, I've neva' hurt nobody or anythin' like that!"

_I don't like this guy. Annoying little twit…_

"Sure, I've stole stuff 'n' ya' know! But I've neva' got in no fight! Neva' even shot a gun at someone!" His eyes were pleading. "I jus' do what's best for me!"

It was then that something in his mind seemed to snap. Batman didn't know how or what, but his body just moved as if something else had taken the reigns. Anger beat with his already fast-beating heart.

He grabbed Johnny by the hair once again and lifted him into the air. By then, Johnny was flailing, screaming bloody murder as he tried to escape. There was no point since he had the handcuffs securing him. With a grunt, the Dark Knight hurled the man's head down to the concrete. The head of dark, blood-soaked hair bounced off with a _crack!_ All the man could do on the ground was to tremble and howl in pain. He heaved in with a croaky breath and then suddenly threw up blood on the already stained ground.

Yet another time, Batman grabbed the man by the shirt and shoved him into the wall. He did it again, and again, and again. Each hit let out a blunt _thud_ and a shrill shriek. He might have found it a sickening sound if he wasn't too consumed in his hate.

The voice laughed an insane and mad guffaw.

He continued with the beating for a while, kicking and punching him. It lasted until Johnny's screams ended, and all that was left was a limp, quivering body soaked in blood. After throwing him to the ground, Batman stared at the victim, unsure of what he had just done.

Had he just done that?

_Oh yes, Brucie, _the voice seethed playfully. _What a wonderful show. Bravo. Bravo…_

Panic surged through his veins. What had he just done? He could have killed the poor man!

Batman kneeled over to pull at Johnny's shirt. The man didn't move.

_He's out cold… won't wake up for a while probably…_

Then what should I do with his body?

_How should I know? He's your victim…_

What if someone finds him here?

_It doesn't make a difference. He'll die from the blood loss…_

With now quaking hands, Batman grabbed the body by the shirt collar and hoisted it over his shoulder. He could feel Johnny's cold form shivering.

His other self snickered.

_Now don't do anything rash, Brucie…_

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't think straight. His thoughts were just a jumble of panic in his hazy mind. He did the first thing that formed in his head.

_Calm down… Don't have a panic attack on me…_

With a swift movement, Batman headed to the nearest dumpster a few feet away and dropped the cold form of Johnny into the filthy container.

XXXXX

Running trembling hands through his sweaty mess of hair, Bruce paced around his room. He'd almost killed a man… again. It was as if he had no control over his own body… or his own mind even.

_You didn't kill him. He's probably alive. The police'll find him. Don't get yourself all riled up…_ The voice continued to chuckle.

Bruce continued to run his hands through his hair. The room felt hot, and he was sweating profusely. Without a thought, he yanked his t-shirt off and tossed it on the bed, revealing the many scars on his worn out body.

_You've been through a lot. __**We've**__ been through a lot. They can't blame you if you slip up once or twice…_

He shot a glare at the mirror sitting atop the dresser. The glass revealed himself, shirtless, sweaty, and shaking, and his identical clone, who was smiling widely. Each scar on his body was mirrored by this second Bruce.

_You can't say I don't know how you feel, Brucie. I've been with you every step of the way. _He laughed a hearty cackle. _I feel, think, act the same way you do._

Anger flooded his mind, and Bruce plodded to the dresser to slam two palms down on the wood surface with a _bang! _He felt his face twist in hatred.

"I am _nothing_ like you!" he snarled rather loudly at the mirror. The other man's mouth curled upward, and he cackled again.

_Who are you foolin'? I am you…_

Bruce banged on the dresser again.

"I am _not_ you! I am not anything near you!" His breathing was becoming ragged. "I don't know who you are, but get out of my head! _I am not you!_"

The other Bruce could only laugh. The clone placed his hands atop the dresser in the reflection of the mirror and leaned forward to face his other ego.

_It's like geometry, Brucie. Do you remember high school? I know I do. A square is always a rectangle, but a rectangle can never be a square…_

Bruce groaned in anger and pushed himself from the dresser. Trying to relieve his mind of his other self, his thoughts immediately bolted back to the thought of Johnny in the dumpster. Maybe he was dead…

He remembered clearly. The look of fear on the man's face. The guttural breaths escaping from his bleeding mouth. The way his broken nose sat in a crooked angle as it bled profusely. The dark liquid red streaming down his horror-stricken face…

Bruce wiped the smile from his face with a gasp. For a moment, he stood there in silence, unsure of what was going on.

Who was he? What was wrong with his mind? He didn't even know who he really was anymore… who he was supposed to be…

_Don't you see? Darling, you're lost. I'm trying to help you…_

"How?"

_I'm showing you who you really are…_

"Then who am I?"

_I just said I'm showing you…_

"Why can't you just tell me?"

_Darling, I'm standing right in front of you. Why can't you see?_

With a confused sigh, Bruce bent over to rest his hands on the bed, letting his head bow down to study the floor. So many things were running through his head. It was as if his thoughts were no longer his own.

"I—I don't understand."

_I know you don't…_

The voice chuckled then grew silent. For a while, Bruce stood alone.

_Don't worry, you'll understand… We'll get to know each other…_

"You keep saying that," Bruce croaked, "but I don't know what you're talking about."

A few laughs rang out then fell.

_You'll understand… You'll understand soon…_

"Trust me, I want to understand, but you're not making it any easier."

_That's because you're not making it any easier…_ A short guffaw… _Believe me, it'll be soon. Now get rest…_

Bruce didn't move. He just stood there in the same position, pondering over the events of the night. Everything was going by too quickly.

After musing for a while longer, he silently got up from his stance by the bed, checked if the door was locked, and pulled the sheet halfway from the bed. Before lying down, he paused, pondering over sleep and the inevitable dreams it would bring.

Laughter.

Without a second thought, Bruce turned on his heel, reached the dresser, pulled open a drawer, and from that fished out a roll of duct tape. While making sure the gray tape was securely over his mouth, Bruce switched the lights off and padded over to the bed. Once again he tugged at the tape, wondering how he had thought of such a strange idea…

…desperate times called for desperate measures.


End file.
